Rogues & Rebels
by Draculus Sanguine
Summary: A former Dark Brotherhood assassin, Decimus struggles with the legacy of his violent past, and with the legend of the Dragonborn. A legend he has inherited. [Rated M for violence and gore, with some suggestive themes/content]The main quest and the rest of the storyline have been altered to suit my needs. The alterations are minor in most cases, but there are some major ones.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Decimus crouched at the foot of the crumbling tower. He was in Helgen, many months after he was almost executed at this same spot. The small city was barely recognizable, reduced to the burned out shells of buildings, and a crumbling keep.

He had only avoided losing his head at the intervention of a dragon. A dragon who had thereafter proceeded to destroy Helgen, slaughtering the inhabitants. He himself had only escaped with the help of a Nord. Ralof of Riverwood. Poor bastard had know idea who he was helping escape, or he might have thrown him into the jaws of the beast. He had killed more Stormcloaks than he cared to count.

The Sicarius. That's what they called me. He thought. He had always hated the name, but it served a purpose. If he wanted information he merely had to flash the black hand tattooed over his heart. What had once been famed as the mark of the Dark Brotherhood was now his personal crest. But not one he was proud of. He had been far younger when he had joined them, scarcely out of his teens, and yet he grew to be the most feared assassin that Tamriel had known in centuries. It had all started with revenge. Not for himself, but for someone who could not do the deed themselves.

A cruel old woman, Grelod the Kind who tormented the orphans of Riften. It had been easy. Too easy he now thought. To take life without a second thought was a dark thing indeed.

The next morning he had awakened within a shack with four others. One, a woman clad in black and red armor, the other three bound, and blindfolded against the wall.

The woman extended him an invitation to her family if he would pay her back the kill he had stolen.

The three prisoners met a swift end. While he may not have known it then, he did it out of the urge to be accepted. The offer of companionship was irresistible to someone who had never known it. To someone who unknowingly craved it. That urge led him down the darkest three years of his life. His contracts grew more and more important, and more dangerous.

Then had come the war. Ulfric Stormcloak murdered High King Torygg, and plunged the province into a bloody conflict, dividing its people. Then Decimus received a contract to kill the emperor. Titus Mede II. But not just him. It would be a string of assassinations. First The emperor's cousin, her death would force the old man to come to Skyrim to pay his respects. He had snuck aboard the Katariah and killed the old man in his sleep.

When he returned to the Brotherhood's Sanctuary however he had found it overrun with Penitus Oculatus agents and those he had come to regard as family slain. He stayed within the shadows and watched, helpless as they burned the hall and all inside. He hid in the trees the entire night, only venturing into the Sanctuary after the Agents had long since gone Astrid, miraculously had survived, just barely holding onto life.

"Run." She had whispered as she pressed her Blade of Woe into his hand. "The Brotherhood is finished. But you may yet live."

"How did they the Sanctuary?" Decimus had demanded. The thirst for revenge grew inside him.

Astrid gave him a sad smile and relinquished her hold on life, passing into Sithis' void.

Though he felt a coward for doing it he had run, fleeing Skyrim he thought forever. He gained passage on a ship to Solstheim and upon reaching the island disappeared into the mountains on the islands north. After another year of solitary living he entered Raven Rock for the first time since his flight and advertised himself as a sellsword, willing to protect anyone for the right price. After several successful job he decided to visit his birth home in Morrowind. Blacklight was where he had been born and where he had lived for his first years. His family was one of the only Imperial ones in the entire city.

His mother, a tall, dark haired Imperial woman had died five years after his birth leaving him in the care of her sister, who had been unable to produce children of her own. He had never known his father, but his mother had told him stories. He was a Nord, Tall and muscled, a warrior. It was no wonder his mother had fallen for him. He did not fall for her however, No self respecting Nordic man would build a life with an Imperial. He had left her after she confessed that she was with child. A Milkdrinker for an heir? Never. It would only bring shame to his family name. A name Decimus never was told. His mother had sought to erase all image of his father, but after her passing he had learned small bits about him.

Decimus had left the village at the age of fifteen, a couple of septims in his pocket and a steel dagger at his hip. He had snuck across the border and entered, Morrowind beginning his new life. He was a fool in those days, falling in with all the wrong sort. All in an attempt to bury the feelings of abandonment. The burning resentment he felt for his father for leaving them, and to a lesser extent, resentment at his mother for giving up because the man she thought she loved had left her.

So from Solstheim he went, retracing his path across Morrowind until he reached Blacklight. He had crossed the border near the small outpost known as Refugee's Rest and then proceeded to Windhelm. He had only ever been to the city once, before the war had started and he wanted to visit once more.

It had rotted to the core. The racism he had experienced in that place left him feeling sick. The abuse anyone who wasn't a Nord suffered was terrible. He left Windhelm, stole a horse and traveled at a breakneck pace, making the normally monthlong journey to Solitude in two weeks. He had marched straight to Castle Dour, Tullius base of operations. He demanded to speak with the general alone and then began to spin his tale.

He admitted to everything, the assassinations from nearly three years prior, the killing of the emperor, and finally his identity as the Sicarius.

"If you wish to execute me, then do so." He had told Tullius. "But I assure you that I am far more valuable to you alive."

Tullius had agreed to his terms, that his identity remain a secret, and that he could operate with large amounts of freedom when engaging the Stormcloaks.

Unfortunately his identity being a secret was a problem when he was ambushed by Imperial soldiers. They had just wrangled up a group of Stormcloaks, and he, not clad in the standard Imperial armor was mistaken for a rebel. When he resisted they had beat him into unconsciousness.

Then he had awakened in the cart, bound and bruised...

"You okay?" Came a voice from behind him. A warm hand touched his shoulder. Lydia.

"Yeah. Just lost in thought." Decimus sighed rising and turning to face her. "We've still got a long way to go if we're going to end this war. Tullius wants me back in two days time."

Lydia gave a coy smile.

"Then why don't we make the most of the time we have?" She said, a slightly seductive tone creeping into her voice.

She turned and stalked, a suggestive sway to her hips, towards the old barracks where they had set up camp.

Decimus took one last look at the chopping block, an then followed her, the smallest trace of a smile on his lips.

* * *

Author's Note: The rest of the story will be continuing on from Decimus escape from Helgen after he was mistaken for a spy.

Side Note: Decimus armor is a retexture of the Letho armor done by Elianora, and since Letho doesn't exist in Skyrim's lore, the set will be reffered to as the King-Killer's armor(Since that's what Letho & Decimus both are.)

I also use the Bijin Warmaidens replacer by rxkx22, and the Lydia in that pack is the Lydia in this story.


	2. Chapter One - Helgen

**Chapter One**

Helgen

The cart bounced along the uneven ground, jostling Decimus from his uneasy slumber. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The sunlight was blindingly white against the snow covered landscape.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."

He raised his head and looked to see who was addressing him. It was a muscular nord man, with shoulder length blonde hair and the distinctive blue cuirass of a Stormcloak.

Decimus judged him to be in his late twenties, around twenty-nine, two winters older than himself.

He attempted to reply, but found a gag had been tied tightly around his mouth making speech impossible.

 _Bloody bastards. I swear when I get out of this mess they're all going to be stripped of rank and scrubbing latrines for the rest of their enlistment._ He thought darkly.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He gestured to Decimus right at the two other men in the cart.

The one on the blonde man's left was also a nord, though a very sorry looking one indeed. He was skinny as a rail and dressed in ragged clothes that looked to have been made from old feed sacks.

The other was much older than any in the cart, approaching his mid fifties if he wasn't already there. He was garbed in a rich fur coat atop a steel breastplate, expensive looking greaves and bracers protected his forearms and lower legs.

He was also gagged in the same manner as Decimus preventing him from acknowledging Decimus, but he inclined his head.

Decimus did not return the curtesy. He had recognized him almost immediately. Ulfric Stormcloak. Leader of the rebels, and Decimus reason for joining Tullius.

Just as Decimus looked back at the blonde nord, the man in rags spoke.

"Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine until you stirred things up. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

 _Doubtful. You hardly look in any condition to ride to the market, much less Hammerfell._ Thought Decimus. _But then neither do I._

His face ached all over and felt swollen from the imperial's clubs, and they had stripped him of everything but his undershirt, his leather breeches and his boots. The poniard he normally kept hidden there was missing. One of his eyes had swollen shut and his nose felt as though it may have been broken.

"You there,"

The skinny nord turned and addressed him, with a look that Decimus supposed was meant to be amiable and friendly. It made him look like an addict begging for more skooma.

"You and me, we shouldn't be here."

 _Damn right I shouldn't be here._

"Its these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He finished with what was now a look of denial.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief." The blonde nord said in an annoyed tone.

"Shut up back there!" The soldier driving the cart ordered.

The skinny nord promptly ignored the order, looking across at Ulfric.

"What's wrong with him?" He said, warily avoiding Ulfric's intense stare.

"Watch your tongue, thief! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak the true High King." The blonde nord replied angrily. It was clear that he was growing tired of the other man and his pointless driveling.

 _That makes two of us._ Decimus glared at the small nord.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The horse thief said with a panicked expression across his face. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you-oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits." The blonde said in a much calmer tone, as if just realizing that his life was about to come to an end.

The raggedly dressed nord was not taking that news so calmly. He was muttering frantically under his breath and kept glancing at the soldier in the front of the cart.

The blonde nord seemed to have a moment's sympathy looking at him.

"Hey," He said to the smaller man. "What village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" The thief replied, a resentful tone creeping into his voice.

"A nord's last thoughts, should be of home." The blonde said softly.

"I- Rorikstead," The thief's voice broke. "I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir!" A soldier greeted. "The Headsman is waiting."

"Good, let's get this over with." Tullius replied in a tired voice.

 _Tullius is here?_ Decumus looked around.

Tullius was indeed there, conversing with a group of Thalmor Justiciars, and looking none to happy about it.

A tall Altmer woman said something to him and then climbed into the back of a carriage, ordering a disgruntled looking driver onwards.

Tullius turned away and marched with a group of his officer's over to the watch tower at the center of the town.

Helgen. Decimus had been here only once before, purchasing ingredients for a paralyzing poison. He had been sent to kidnap someone for the Brotherhood, not normally one of the things he had assigned to do, but he did it well none the less.

The sound of a frantic prayer to the divines reached his ears and he looked over to see the horse thief staring wide eyed around as he realized that he was indeed about to be executed.

 _The bloody Divines won't help you,_ Decimus thought disdainfully. _They never do._

As if sensing Decimus' thoughts the nord stopped his praying and stared blankly at the wooden floor of the cart.

The blonde nord was reminiscing about a girl he had once courted here. And something about mead with juniper berries.

Decimus looked around the village, plotting possible escape routes, and the locations of all the soldiers. There was a slight chance that Tullius would recognize him, but it would be foolish not to have a backup plan. That and there was always the chance that Tullius didn't care anymore. He had Ulfric Stormcloak after all, the only reason Decimus had been allowed to live through their first meeting was because he had assured the general that he would kill the rebel leader.

If that was the case than Tullius could see this as an opportunity to void the deal he had struck with Decimus.

He heard a father tell his child to get inside their home. The bot argued briefly then consented to his father's will.

The wagon's rolled to a stop and the driver hopped from his seat and walked over to join his fellow soldiers in the tower's courtyard.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts!" Said a haughty female voice. "Move it!"

Decimus spotted the woman who was yelling the orders. She wore an officer's uniform. A captain.

"Why are we stopping?" The horse thief asked in a panicky voice that told Decimus that he knew full well why they had stopped.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The blonde man spoke. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

 _I intend to keep the gods waiting for as long as I can._ Decimus thought to himself.

"No, wait!" The horse thief screamed. "We're not rebels."

 _Bloody idiot. Hollering that you're not a rebel is just as good as admitting it. Just shows you don't have any stones._

The blonde nord seemed to agree. "Face your death with some courage thief!" He said angrily.

All sympathy he appeared to have felt for the man had vanished from his face.

The other man ignored him.

"You've got to tell them this is a mistake." He pleaded. "That we weren't with you"

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and the blonde man stepped out of the cart, followed by Ulfric and Decimus.

"Step towards the block when we call your name." The captain ordered.

A nordic legionnaire stood on her left side holding a sheaf of parchment in one hand, presumably with their names on it, and a feather quill in the other.

"Empire loves their damn lists." He heard the blonde nord mutter under his breath.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." The imperial recited. "Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric stepped forward and made his way to the other Stormcloaks.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The blonde nord said, the awe in his voice apparent.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The imperial read off of his parchment.

The blonde nord, Ralof stepped forward and followed Ulfric over to the prisoners who had already been called.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! You can't do this, I'm not a rebel!" Lokir the horse thief sprinted away.

"Halt!" The captain yelled after him.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir shouted over his shoulder.

"Archers!" The bowmen positioned around the square had already drawn their bows, and nocked arrows.

Lokir was dead before he hit the ground.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The captain asked smugly, turning in a circle as if daring the prisoners to challenge her.

The soldier next to her nudged her shoulder.

"What?" She demanded.

The man gestured to Decimus. "He's not on the list."

"Forget the list!" The captain shouted. "He was in the carts, he goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." He turned to Decimus. "Follow the Captain, prisoner."

" _Not even going to ungag me? How many Stormcloaks are Imperials you daft bitch!"_ Decimus protests were muffled by the gag, and as such were unintelligible.

The captain shoved him forward, into the group of prisoners.

Tullius spoke to Ulfric, telling how some in Helgen considered him a hero.

Most of the speech went unheard by Decimus, who could hear nothing over his pounding pulse.

Suddenly a thundering roar sounded in the distance, interrupting Tullius.

"What was that?" The soldier with the list asked no one in particular.

"It was nothing." Tullius replied. "Carry on."

"Yes General!" Said the bitch captain. "Give them their last rites."

A priestess of Arkay stepped out from behind the soldiers.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius," She began to chant. "blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…"

"Oh for Talos sake, shut up and let's get on with it!" A burly red haired stormcloak roared, shoving his way through the prisoners.

The priestess looked extremely put off, but consented. "Very well." She said.

The captain grabbed the red haired nord by the back of his neck, quite the feat, as the man stood a full head taller than her, and shoved him to the ground, his head on the chopping block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me Imperial." He taunted the captain. "Can you say the same?"

The headsman raised his massive, heavy bladed axe and brought it down with a wet _thunk_.

A mixture of cheers and boos rang out from the surrounding crowd.

"You Imperial bastards!" Shouted a Stormcloak woman.

"Next, the Imperial traitor." The captain said.

Decimus sighed. He wasn't going to die here today. But Tullius wouldn't forgive him for what he was about to do. He could always return to the Skaal village on Solstheim though…

Another roar sounded, this one much closer. It sounded angered. Not just angered enraged. Whatever made that noise was seeking revenge.

"There it is again." The soldier said. The whole courtyard froze, listening intently.

"I said, next prisoner!" Shouted the captain, breaking the silence.

Decimus marched forward and knelt, his head bowed as though in prayer. The axe went up and just as it was about to drop, Decimus rolled into the headsman's legs, tackling them out from under him. He rolled to his feet, the headsman's dagger clutched in his hand, stained with it's master's blood and- A dragon broke through the clouds.

It shouted something in a strange tongue, and all around them fire rained from the sky.

One of the fireballs landed directly behind Decimus, the explosion hurling Decimus into the air.

He landed hard on the cracked paving stones, dazed. The headsman's dagger had slipped from his grasp. He was now weaponless, and still bound.

"Hey! Imperial!" Someone hauled him to his feet. "Let's go! The gods won't give us another chance!"

 _Whatever god sent that thing has a poor idea of what liberation is._ Decimus thought, shaking his head to clear it.

Ralof dragged him into one of the cities watchtowers, where he found himself surrounded by Stormcloaks.

 _Relax. None of your targets have ever seen your face and lived to tell, and the only people who have seen you kill are ones who were allowed to. Besides. I always wear a mask._

Still though, he found himself praying that none of them had seen his tattoo. Not for the first time in his life he regretted having it.

"Quickly, up the stairs!" Ralof said. He pulled a dagger from his belt and cut Decimus free, leaving him to remove the gag.

"Where will that get us?" He shouted after the nord. But Ralof was already climbing the steps, taking them two at a time.

He was nearing the top when he felt it. The tower shook as though it had been struck by some massive force.

 _Or a massive lizard!_ Decimus instincts screamed. Without thinking he dove forward, seized Ralof by the back of his cuirass and threw them both to the ground.

Not a second after they hit the floor, the dragon's head burst through the stone wall, inches from where Ralof had been standing only seconds before.

It opened its gaping maw and a gout of fire streamed into the tower, vaporizing the Stormcloaks caught in its path instantly. Suddenly it clamped its jaws shut and turned, the remaining Imperial soldiers having drawn its attention.

"You have my thanks friend." Ralof said as Decimus pulled him to his feet.

Decimus merely nodded. He had just saved the life of a Stormcloak.

"There's an inn we can jump to!" Ralof shouted over the sound of the dragon's roars. "Come on!" With that he jumped through the gaping hole in the building, landing heavily inside the top floor of the inn.

The roof of the building had been blasted open leaving behind a mix of charred wooden rafters and smoldering thatch.

Decimus jumped, rolling to break his fall, before following Ralof through the maze of burning buildings.

"Hurry!" Ralof shouted over his shoulder.

Decimus could hardly see through the haze of smoke that had settled around the city. His foot caught on something and he stumbled. He looked to see what had tripped him. The body of a small boy. Probably the one who had been fascinated with the soldier.

From the look of it he had snuck out to watch the execution anyway and had been crushed by a fallen timber.

Decimus pulled his eyes away from the boy's crushed body and searched for Ralof. The nord had run off without him!

 _And this is another reason I joined the Legion._ He thought as he picked his way towards the keep. _They bloody look out for their comrades!_

The keep looked to be in the best condition of any of the buildings, and if he could get into the barracks he might be able to scrape together some weapons and armor.

 _Then I'm getting the hell out of here._ He vowed silently.

He rounded the corner of a building and came face to face with the nordic legionnaire who had read off the list of prisoners.

Decimus saw a brief look of indecision cross his features, and then his expression hardened and he spoke.

"Still alive prisoner?" He said. "Follow me if you want to stay that way."

Decimus resisted the urge to point out he was gripping his sword to tightly and holding it much too close to the hilt.

"I'm Hadvar by the way." He announced.

"Decimus." Decimus stooped and picked up an imperial sword that had fallen to the ground. The blade was snapped off halfway down, but it was better than nothing.

"Through here! We need to make it to the keep." Hadvar sprinted into the courtyard and ran headlong into none other than Ralof.

They tumbled, to the ground, Hadvar rolling to his feet a bit slower than Ralof.

"We're escaping, Hadvar." Ralof stated, his hand neared the waraxe looped through his belt. "You aren't stopping us!"

Hadvar said nothing, staring at the ground. He made no move to stop the larger man from pushing past him, towards the cities gates.

"Let's go." Hadvar beckoned for Decimus to follow him to the keep.

Hadvar led him through a small door, on the left hand side of the keep. It opened into the barracks, the very place Decimus had been trying to get to.

"Search the chests for some armor. Can't have you running around unprotected." He gestured to the chests and weapon racks that were stationed along the walls.

"Where's my armor?" Decimus turned on him.

"It would have been in one of the carts, but it is possible the cart managed to unload the rebel's equipment, if they did then all of your armor is in the storeroom downstairs." Hadvar explained.

"All the same, you should probably armor up, the chance that they didn't make it is a bit to high for you to risk it."

Decimus nodded and opened one of the chests to find it contained a full set of studded Imperial armor. His armor would have been preferable for sure, he had tweaked every aspect of it until it was nearing perfection, but like Hadvar said, it was better to have some protection than to just hope that his armor would have survived.

 _If Tullius arrogance cost me my equipment though, he'd better pray to all his gods that he can replace it. The enchantments alone took me nearly a year to perfect!_

Stewing at the thought he pulled the cuirass on, loosening and tightening the straps to adjust is to his size. The armor's greaves were made for a man with much narrower arms then his so he left them behind. He still had his own boots though, luckily enough, with their swiftness and muffling enchantments, they were an assassin's best friend.

"Ready?" Hadvar asked as Decimus liberated an imperial longsword from one of the weapon racks.

"As I'll ever be." Decimus said. He missed his own sword. The blade had been honed to a razor sharp edge, and thanks to Decimus enchantments, it would never dull. That and it sapped the strength of enemies, while feeding his own.

He gave the sword a couple of test swings, then followed Hadvar down the hallway.

"The main hall is this way." Hadvar whispered over his shoulder.

He led them down the hall to a small room, barred by an iron gate. A chain pulley was positioned next to it, with an iron ring at the end.

"Wait!" Decimus said in an urgent whisper. He seized the collar of Hadvar's cuirass and pulled him back.

The shorter man gave him an inquisitive look.

"Listen." Decimus said. Voices were coming from the main hall, and not those of an Imperial Legionnaire.

"Dammit Rolf!" A female voice said. "The gates blocked! The dragon dropped a tower in front of it! I told you it was a bad idea to come in here."

"Well I saw Ragnar and Gunjar come in!" A male voice, presumably Rolf shouted back. "How was I to know that a bloody dragon was going to seal the gate!"

"Stormcloaks." Hadvar's eyes widened as he said it.

"You know how to handle that sword, right?" Decimus asked as he readied his own. In his other hand a flame sprang into life, dancing madly between his fingers like it wanted to escape.

"Yes, what do you take me for?" Hadvar whispered, looking slightly affronted.

"A clerk." Decimus said with a grin. "Ready?"

Hadvar nodded, pulling his helmet onto his head and buckling the chinstrap.

Decimus grasped the pulley and wrenched it downward. The chain came down and the gate flew up, startling the two Stormcloaks within the room.

Hadvar charged through the gate into the room and immediately engaged the woman.

Decimus was left with a mountain of a man, wielding a steel greatsword as though it were a switch.

"You're big." Decimus commented, wiggling the fingers that contained the flames. "Fought bigger."

He hurled the firebolt at the towering Stormcloak and gripped the longsword with both hands, charging him.

The Stormcloak jumped aside, narrowly avoiding the firebolt, and swung his greatsword at Decimus, who dropped to his knees and slid underneath the sword, his hair rippling in the wind generated from the strike.

Rolf, surprised at striking only air was momentarily off balance, carried forward a short ways by his massive sword. Decimus took advantage of his surprise and slashed hi longsword across the Stormcloak's unprotected back, the force of the blow splitting through the man's chainmail and biting deep into his flesh.

Rolf roared in pain and whirled around, swinging the greatsword with the same careless abandon he had with the first one.

Decimus deflected the swipe with the flat of his blade and leapt forward, driving the sword into Rolf's chest. The massive man stopped cold, a pained look crossing his face. He coughed, splattering Decimus face with blood, and slid backwards off the blade, collapsing into a heap.

Decimus looked over to see how Hadvar had fared, and found him locked into a sparring match with the Stormcloak woman, who was matching him blow for blow.

 _We don't have time for you to play nice._ Decimus groaned inwardly.

He ignited another firebolt and hurled it at the woman, the flaming projectile burning straight through her cuirass and into her flesh, burning a hole the size of a large coin through her chest.

She collapsed, gasping for breath, the firebolt had punctured her lungs.

Hadvar whirled around in surprise.

"You killed that big brute in a matter of seconds." He exclaimed in astonishment, a look of awe on his face.

"And yet you, an Imperial Legionnaire didn't manage to kill a soldier of average skill. _._ " Decimus glared at him. "You were taking it easy on her, that fight should have ended before it started."

"She was a woman, I-I." Hadvar grew red, looking extremely embarrassed.

"She was the _enemy_. There are no men and women in war. Only soldiers." He gestured to the now silent Stormcloak at their feet. "Don't think of them as human. Cold as it sounds, they don't view you as anymore than an obstacle standing in their way."

Hadvar nodded still looking shocked at the ease with which Decimus had killed. _Too much practice._ Decimus thought sadly. _I stopped thinking of my targets as human a very long time ago._

He wiped Rolf's blood from his sword and slid it into the sheath he had strapped to his back. He always wore his swords in such a manner. If they were belted to his hip then the sheath only served as a liability, hindering his movement and speed.

"Stairs are this way." Hadvar said. He had recovered from his initial shock and regained some of his confidence. He stalked over to a another iron gate and pulled a key from a pouch on his belt. He inserted into the gates lock and it swung open, revealing a stone staircase leading into the bowels of the castle.

Decimus paused to remove Rolf's steel bracers before following Hadvar. They were much heavier than the gloves of his Kingslayer armor but better than losing an arm.

Hadvar had reached the bottom of the steps and walked into another hallway.

"The storeroom is through-" He was cut off as half the ceiling caved in. The dragon's roars could be heard overhead, mingling with the dying screams of its victims.

"Dragon doesn't give up easily." Decimus commented, helping a glaring Hadvar to his feet.

"Did you hear that? The bloody dragon is right on top of us!" Came a voice from within the storeroom.

"Grab anything useful and let's go." Said another, this one had an Imperial accent. "Those damn Stormcloaks have to be behind this. I hear Ulfric can use the Voice. Probably summoned the beast."

 _Doubtful._ Decimus thought. Ulfric's expression had been as surprised as everyone else's.

He pushed open the door and entered.

"It's one of the prisoners!" Shouted a young soldier.

He nocked an arrow in the string of his bow and fired. Quicker than any of them would have believed possible, Decimus snatched the arrow from the air, stopping it inches from his face.

"Shouldn't have done that." He said in a deathly silent whisper.

"No wait!" Hadvar shouted, but Decimus had already drawn his sword and set upon the men, like a lion amongst a pack of wolves. They fell within seconds of the bowman releasing his arrow.

"Why did you do that?" Hadvar shouted at him.

He withdrew his sword from a Legionnaire wearing heavy armor, shook the blood from it and slid it back into its sheath.

"He fired on me, and he," Decimus kicked the soldier at his feet. "Was going to shoot you with this."

He rolled the man over to reveal a small crossbow, a steel bolt still in the slide.

"Recognize any of them?" Decimus asked.

Hadvar pointed to the man in heavy armor.

"I stopped him and a couple of his buddies from raping a girl the other night. They were drunk." He said lamely. "I didn't think they would remember any of it. Clearly I was wrong."

"Clearly." Decimus agreed.

"How did you catch that arrow?" Hadvar asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

"Experimental enchantments on myself." Decimus explained. "I thought I was clever in my youth, and had always possessed a small degree of talent for magic. I'm faster and stronger than most alive, but the enchantments to my, well ah, brain make me more aggressive than the normal man. Unless that man is a drunken nord. And they limit my empathy. Most of this is why I am able to kill with such ease. Trust me though. You never want that."

"It sounds like you programmed yourself to be a merciless killer." Hadvar said, taking a step back. "What in Oblivion drove you to do that?"

"Tamriel." Decimus answered bitterly. "I saw no need for certain emotions, so I sacrificed them in order to be able to survive at all costs. Love for example. If you love anything you can lose yourself in it, so I traded most of the part of my soul that loves for the necessary power to fuel my enhancements."

"You, traded part of your soul?" Hadvar's face had now drained of most of its color. "To what?"

"A soul gem." Decimus answered. He began to open the chests that were stacked along the walls. "Help me. My armor will be fairly obvious."

The soul gem in question had been broken into several fragments which he had embedded in his arms, legs and torso, each fragment enhancing the portion of his body it inhabited. Not that he was about to tell Hadvar that. In fact, he always wore a necklace that had a filled soul gem at the end, so that those who knew of his enhancements would think that it was the one empowering him.

He opened the one of the chests and frowned slightly, then smiled. His armor was not within the chest, but his sword, and Astrid's dagger were.

Slipping the Imperial sword off he strapped _his_ sword onto his back and drew it, the blade sliding smoothly from its scabbard its naming runes glowing faintly in the low light of the store room. He felt whole again.

The blade was made from a combination of silver and steel, so as to be effective against both living and undead foes. Etched in runes along the fuller was a single word. _Solus._ Alone. Alone like he had felt on that night so long ago. The night the Brotherhood had been destroyed. He had forged the blade after he fled the Sanctuary, melting the blades of his fallen family to form one. The Blade of Woe was it's pair. Astrid's blade absorbed the life force of its enemies. _Solus_ absorbed their strength, while feeding his.

"That is an impressive blade you have there." Hadvar commented, pulling Decimus from his reverie.

"Aye, it is. You'll not find another like it." Decimus said softly. He admired the sword a moment more and then slid it back into its simple leather scabbard.

"I don't see your armor in any of these chests, but I did find a cloak and some potions." Hadvar reached tossed him a rucksack. The inside had small loops that had were loaded with potion vials. A wool cloak had been stuffed inside of it. Decimus pulled it out and slipped it on, then secured the rucksack in a manner that it would still allow him to easily reach _Solus_.

The ceiling rumbled overhead, showering them with dust.

"We should get moving. The longer we wait the more time the dragon has to block our escape." Hadvar advised, looking around nervously.

"Very well, lead the way." Decimus took one last look at the chests.

 _Damn Tullius. If I find out he was behind this, he's going to have to worry about a whole lot more than Ulfric._

He followed Hadvar deeper into the keep, heading towards the dungeons. The entered to find the torturer and his assistant slain, their bodies looted.

"Well then." Decimus knelt next to the bodies. "We aren't the first ones to come through here."

He stood and walked over to one of the cages positioned against the wall and stared at the dead mage inside.

An arrow sprouted from one of his eye sockets. The torturer hadn't been the one to kill him.

"Check back there to see if this sot had any gold stashed away." Hadvar pointed to an office like room in the far corner of the dungeon.

Decimus nodded and strode over to the room and shoved the iron door open. The inside was rather small, with a pair of weapon racks and a counter that wrapped around most of the room.

He found a thick coin purse shoved underneath the counter in what the warden probably thought was a great location to hide something. Decimus assumed this because right next to the coin purse was a well used copy of _The_ _Lusty Argonian Maid_.

He pocketed the gold but stayed well away from the book.

"I'd wager that there's about a hundred septims he had stashed away." Decimus commented as he exited the office. He held up the coin purse and offered it to Hadvar

"Keep it." The nord said. "My uncle lives in Riverwood, a few days ride from Helgen, he'll be able to take care of me."

Decimus nodded his gratitude and slipped the gold back into his rucksack.

"Come on. Only a short ways left. When I was first stationed here I spent most of my time exploring the catacombs beneath the keep. I doubt anyone knows them better at this point."

The tunnel wound on, the stone bricks of the keep into damp rock.

"Hold up." Hadvar said. "I think we may be about to meet our forerunners."

Decimus listened. Voices echoed off the rock walls of the cavern ahead. Shouting, and then came the clashing of steel on steel.

 _Either the Stormcloaks have turned on each other, or their are legionnaires in there._ Decimus thought. Without a word he drew _Solus_ and strode into the cavern.

There were indeed legionnaires, but they were sorely outnumbered by the blue clad Stormcloaks.

With a battlecry, Hadvar flew from his side and joined his comrades' struggle against the rebels.

Decimus sheathed _Solus_ and conjured fire bolt after fire bolt, hurling them with uncanny accuracy into the fray.

An arrow flew at him from within the swarm of bodies, and one of his bolts flew astray, striking one of the oil lamps that lit the cavern, spilling flaming oil over legionnaires and Stormcloaks alike.

Decimus sent a second fire bolt into the chest of the archer and drew _Solus_ charging the stragglers. He dodged a clumsy sword strike and decapitated its wielder, spinning away to another rebel before the first had even hit the ground. The remaining two fell to the legionnaires.

"Maria is wounded, badly." Said one of the three remaining soldiers. He knelt next to a badly burned woman, whom Decimus took to be Maria. His friend turned to Hadvar. "You spent nearly all your spare time here, how much farther to the end of the tunnels?"

"Longer than she has." Hadvar said solemnly. "And then it's almost three days to Riverwood on foot. More if we were carrying her. She'll never make it. If you wish to remain here until she passes, then do so. We'll ensure that there are no more Stormcloaks ahead."

The kneeling legionnaire pulled off his helmet and nodded.

"Very well." He said softly. "I shall stay."

"I'll stay with you." Said the other soldier. "The two of us will have a better chance than just you."

He turned to Hadvar and Decimus. "We'll bury her after she passes, and then meet up with you in Riverwood."

"My uncle will be able to give us supplies for the road to Solitude, but if you aren't to Riverwood within a week, just tell my uncle who you are. He'll help you out."

Decimus had no intention of waiting in Riverwood for more than two days. Falkreath was the nearest city, but Whiterun had better protection. And it was the trading capital of Skyrim. He would be able to purchase a horse for his journey back to Solitude. On second thought he decided he wasn't going to Solitude. Tullius could make do for a while.

He still wasn't convinced that the General hadn't ordered him killed. It would make sense after all. Decimus was the second largest threat to Tullius power. And he had proved in the past he had no qualms about killing powerful people.

No, the war would wait. He on the other hand was going to disappear for awhile.

 _I'll be able to get armor in Whiterun. This armor doesn't exactly suit a traveller._ Decimus thought.

The tunnel had begun to widen, growing lighter. Hadvar had just dispatched a trio of Frostbite spiders, and assured him that the exit was only a little farther.

As the light grew so did the cold. Frost had begun to encroach on the cavern. Shivering slightly Decimus pulled his cloak's hood up, blocking out the worst of the chill, but not all. The leather and steel Imperial armor wasn't exactly a Skaal parka.

He smiled faintly remembering the village. He had foolishly braved the mountains in steel armor and would have frozen to death if he hadn't been found by one of their hunters. He had lived with them a short time before returning to the wilderness, hunting and learning.

 _Never trusted steel armor since._ Decimus moved carefully up the icy path, the blinding white of daylight was visible at the top of the small slope. _Especially not in Skyrim of all places._

"At last." Hadvar sighed as they exited the cavern. "Hold back. Its flying this way."

The dragon did indeed fly over them. It circled twice and then flew off, over the mountains to the north.

"When we reach Riverwood I intend to wait for Caedus and Martin, you however, you are free." Hadvar said. "Under the circumstances, I'd say you've earned your freedom. If I'm asked about you, shall I tell them you died in the attack?"

"No." Decimus said. "They'll know soon enough."

* * *

Author's Note: Don't forget to leave a Review & Fav/Follow! Any reviews are helpful as they A, inspire me to write more, and B, help me improve my writing. Also cookie to you if you found the Thor referance.


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